no one shared with them, but close to which was the seat for the grown up
children of the house. The slaves squatted on the ground nearer to the
door, and crowded into two circles, each surrounding a steaming dish, out
of which they helped themselves to the brown stew of lentils with the
palm of the hand. A round, grey-looking cake of bread lay near each, and
was not to be broken till the steward Jethro had cut and apportioned the
sheep. The juicy pieces of the back and thighs of the animal were
offered to Petrus and his family to choose from, but the carver laid a
slice for each slave on his cake--a larger for the men and a smaller for
the women. Many looked with envy on the more succulent piece that had
fallen to a neighbor's share, but not even those that had fared worst
dared to complain, for a slave was allowed to speak only when his master
addressed him, and Petrus forbid even his children to discuss their food
whether to praise it or to find fault.

In the midst of the underlings sat Miriam; she never ate much, and all
meat was repulsive to her, so she pushed the cut from the ribs that was
given to her over to an old garden-woman, who sat opposite, and who had
often given her a fruit or a little honey, for Miriam loved sweet things.
Petrus spoke not a word to-day to his slaves, and very little even to his
family; Dorothea marked the deep lines between his grave eyes, not
without anxiety, and noted how he pinched his lips, when, forgetful of
the food before him, he sat lost in meditation.

The meal was ended, but still he did not move, nor did he observe the
enquiring glances which were turned on him by many eyes; no one dared to
rise before the master gave the signal.

Miriam followed all his movements with more impatience than any of the
others who were present; she rocked restlessly backwards and forwards,